


The Fear

by churb



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Gen, also kind of follows the "sylvia used to be a criminal" headcanon, don't let the tag discourage u, there's a twist i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churb/pseuds/churb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sister fic to The Dreaming.</p><p>Hater wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so fucking sorry

The ship is just as unpleasant as she remembers it being.

This time, they're seperated, and she's not sure what's going to come of this, but Hater's a useless piece of trash when it comes to general villiany (save the twelve thousand eye clones) so she feels secure and safe. Safer than most would in a death ship, anyway. It's all just a day's work, by now.

Not that it's any less safe than her last job. It almost makes her laugh thinking about it.

Making her way to the centre of the main room proves to be impossible, as a few steps in she's hit with a shot of electricity that knocks her over. Force field. A Watchdog snickers from behind the screen and she feels like slapping him if she can get past the damn thing.

Nothing to worry about, though. She may not be able to get to Wander, or punch the lights out of anyone else who tries to, but he'll be fine. He can defend himself. Hater's never managed so far to even scratch him. He'll be fine.

She still feels uneasy.

Hater smirks, and he says something, but she can't tell what, and any attempts to disable the field prove impossible. She doesn't even know where it's coming from, and she's getting increasingly frustrated. As much as she shouldn't worry about Wander like this, she does, she always worries about him, and as much as he can defend himself she doesn't know if he....can.

That made no sense. Shut up, Sylvia. Stop panicking and work out how to turn this thing off.

No device seems to be visible, and Sylvia swallows, turning her attention back to the duo who appear to be snarking (or half snarking, half optimisming) at each other. "Wander! Can you try and turn this thing off?" She doesn't know if he can hear her. She can't hear him.

Wander turns his head, and cups his hand over his ear in the pseudo childish way that he does, and mouths something that looks like "What? I can't hear you," and she almost wishes she hadn't because that momentary lapse in his already thin concentration is all it takes.

The raygun hidden in Hater's belt is picked up, deployed, and he aims and fires.

And he hits.

Maybe she screams. She doesn't know. Maybe Wander screams, and it's not like she can tell. From what she can see, he just turns back in a split second and just stares at Hater with a confused expression on his face, his hand going to his chest. And then he crumples. It's not very dramatic. He just sort of. Goes.

Sylvia's never killed anyone.

She never has, but she used to be a criminal, and worked alongside those who had, and she's watched people die, and she knows when someone's dead. She's watched a lot of people die. She can tell.

She can tell.

And Wander is very definitely dead.

It's all very fast, and at the same time she feels like she's got all the time in the world to rush over there and prevent it, but she can't, she can't move and when she does try she gets electrocuted again. Ow, her _arms_.

She doesn't look at Hater. She can tell he's laughing.

And she's never killed anyone, and she's never wanted to kill anyone, not really, but when she looks up and when her thoughts are confirmed she wants nothing more than to go up there, bash his head against the floor, repeatedly, until he's unrecognisable and then and only then is she opening the window and throwing the fucker into deep space.

The force field drops.

As soon as she registers it she's over there, not for want of violence (though violence is very much wanted), more so she can crouch down and pick the little body up and hold it, and his eyes are closed and she wants to say he looks like he's sleeping. He doesn't. He looks dead. His chest is singed. He is dead.

She sets him down gently because she doesn't want to hurt him (but for god's sake, whatever god or gods are up there, he's dead) and stands and looks Hater square in the face and she's too angry to move, fantasising about making him pay but too fired up to actually do it, and then suddenly the gun's being pulled on her.

They're laughing.

And she laughs herself, laughs in the face of certain death because this is irony at it's finest. They threaten death to her, yet there's nothing they can do to kill her any more than they just have.

.

,,, . .. , ?

..........trees?

Oh.

Ah yes, trees. Love those trees. Sylvia lays on the ground and stares at the trees and decides she couldn't give less of a fuck about the trees right now. The first thing she does is glance to her left.

Hat. There's a tuft of fur poking out from inside. Is hat breathing? She sticks her hand inside to where she hopes his chest is, and yep. He's alive. Heartbeat, movement. Etc.

It's stupid, she knows it and she knows he's alive but this is the tenth night now and she has to check every time. Call it a stupid sort of paranoia. She's not paranoid but she is maternal and at times those end up being the same thing.

Sometimes she thinks about settling. Just getting a solid place somewhere, and she's never going to have a husband or children and she knows this but her buddy here is good enough for her and she sees no problem with them living together. Maybe they wouldn't get killed every five seconds.

But no, they're travellers and she knows how much Wander would hate being tied down, and what's she saying? So would she. So she ditches that idea and rolls back over.

Something's poking her in the back.

"Sylvia?"

Oh hell. That was like, the one thing she tried not to do. She rolls over again.

He's very good at getting up when he wants to, but when he randomly wakes up in the night, Wander tends to carry a dishevelled, tired look, and that's hardly surprising. He continues to poke her despite the fact that she's looking at him, and hey, what's the point in children. She's lugging a giant five year old around with her as is.

Poke poke poke.  
  
"Sylviaaa."

"Yeah, it's me." She cracks a small smile even though it's not exactly funny. "Go back to sleep. I'm fine."

"You don't look okay." And neither does he, he's biting his lip and giving her that look. "Did something upset you?"

As if to fix this, he moves closer and sort of. Flops. She pets his head a little.

"I'm fine. Just had a crazy dream."

"About what?" He looks up and she sighs because she was hoping he wouldn't ask that. What is she saying? It's Wander.

So she thinks on the spot because she's becoming increasingly good at that. Not that she wasn't already good at that. Again, criminal. As much as she tries to forget that, it had it's perks.

"....We went to the store, and they were out of jellyfish pie. They only had pickle and cream."

Blink blink. "Nothing wrong with pickle and cream."

"I'll take your word for that." This conversation has satisfied her that Wander is indeed alive, so she settles herself back down, feeling considerably calmer. "Go back to sleep. It's early."

"Alright, sleeping. Can do! Sleeping. Sleeping's good. I can do that."

He continues to babble and she mentally reiterates her previous point about children.

"Wander."

"This is eas-- Yeah?"

"Sleeping generally requires shutting your mouth."

"Sure." He does some sort of weird salute thing and gets back in the hat. "Goodnight, Sylvia."

"Goodnight, Wander."

She curls herself back around said hat and pretends she's not worried about these things any more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'M S O FUCKING SO RRY


End file.
